Rapcats Can't Fuck E

Yeah. GS. Detroit. Get 'em. Yo. I puff blunts fatter than Roseanne Barr. Blow cigars, love bad hoes with cars. Frozen bars, freeze, degrees are so low. My fans at the show could go play in Snow. Whoa, cold playing winter, heart like December. Spark at contenders and lay 'em all out. Lay 'em all out. Fuck your agenda. I put your fingers in a blender, no doubt. I make the Tech N9 sing like Gwen. Call it Miss Stefani. I'm so hot, no man can sit beside me. So live, my songs heated up like stove eyes. In the house party with a.45. Similar to hurricanes when I blow by. Rap cats can't fuck with me or my homeboy LKB. Yeah. I be up, g-g-going hard. P-p-p-p-pay attention. Make wrong move, bitch, and Your ass is out. I touch you and leave You with not much to go home with. I be up, the G, the Best in the game. Make a wrong move, bitch, And your ass is out. I touch you and leave you with not much To go home with. smoke supreme weed and drink That Henny. Dudes get religious when they meet that Semi. Please, God, don't let them kill me. I'm filthy. That's why they call me Guilty. LRG saggin' rap assassin. Mic clapper captain and wacker has-been. 'Cause it's a brand-new day and I run it. Whatever street shit you claimin', I done it. Unruly, so defiant. My guns shoot wild like Kobe Bryant. I got warriors at the Coney Island. That'll body your homie if your homie's wildin'. Your boys never heard of me. I'm a wolf and you resemble a herd of Sheep. Fuck your homeboys rappin' tough. You wack as fuck, so I'm gonna smack 'em Up. Let's go. I be up, g-g-going hard. P-p-p-p-pay attention. Make a wrong move, bitch, and your ass is Out. I touch you and leave you with not Much to go home with. I be up, the G, the Best in the game. Make a wrong move, bitch, And your ass is out. I touch you and leave you with not much To go home with. any rapper sicker than me Is dead already. I'm damn sure ready to do my thing. I drank the Mello Yello and blew my green. Get it? They just talk, but I live it. So vivid, you'll get destroyed. Gifted at the party like the birthday boy. I got presence, true hip hop in the essence. Channel my aggression. Desert Eagle with a black handle is the weapon. Threatenin'. Am I the best? No question. Don't ask. My knuckles are brass. The rap game's trash, so I put 'em all In a bag. I tote mags for my enemies Lurkin'. Flows are certain to close your curtains. Rap cats can't fuck with me or my homeboy LKB. For D. I be up, g-g-going hard. P-p-p-p-pay attention. Make a wrong move, bitch, and Your ass is out. I touch you and leave You with not much to go home with. I be up, the G, the best in the Game. Make a wrong move, bitch, and your ass Is out. I touch you and leave you with Not much to go home with